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Hunter isn't sure about this at all, especially the part with Den-Mate flying the squishy thing to some strange world. The whole journey is nerve wracking and he glares at the insides of his eyelids waiting for them to die painfully. It doesn't help that Den-Mate is so HAPPY to be back in space and throws in a lot of twists and turns and skitter-jumps that make Hunter's insides feel like icy stones in his body.

He has never been so glad for land before, he's sure. He's so grateful to be out of the squishy thing and on solid rock it takes a few moments to realize half the rock is on fire and the other half seems to be a ball of Dark.

“This is where the guidance system pointed us for the trade meet up... what's going on?!” Den-Mate fills the bond with worry and Hunter sends back reassurance.

He doesn't need magic to feel the roiling powers at play, the battle of supremacy that's tearing the small island apart. //LIMIT BREAKING. TERRITORY BATTLE? ALPHAS.// He snorts, lips curling in a sneer at the grasping, greedy feeling that always comes with Dark this potent.

“We're supposed to meet up here... if the island is destroyed I don't know what we're going to do with all these Water crystals!” Den-Mate feels more concerned than a simple trade shipment calls for in Hunter's opinion. With a sigh he sends back a steady purr and grabs his blade.



Hunter snorts and grins. It's an impressive display they're putting on... for elementally driven spell work and mid-grade Alphas. Griever's snarls are utterly dismissive. He wades on in with a basic Wall and eyes the two behind all the mess, letting his annoyance fill the mindscape. They're locked fist against fist and so into each other they don't even realize he could kill them both with one shot. //MORONS! STOP MAKING A MESS! PEOPLE LIVE HERE!// He projects as he brings the flat side of his blade down crosswise on both their thick Alpha heads.

Looking down at the dazed and unconscious bodies he sends exasperated chagrin back to Den-Mate. He really had forgotten his strength while shackled by the Druid collar. At least they both seem to be breathing.




Smoker takes one long, deep drag off his cigars after another and tries not to imagine the paperwork he's going to have to write up in the near future. On his right Tashigi is staring through her glasses and obviously trying not to gape at the crater that was Banaro Island, a main trading hub before entering the Grandline.

On his left No Name is a silent, solemn shadow. He'd been the first to hear the reports over the Den Den, and Smoker couldn't begin to guess what the Kenbunshoku Haki Omega was feeling from the half melted and crumbling pile of rocks. He'd been getting quieter the closer they got to the Grandline, training his abilities as though afraid Smoker would abandon him in the calmer seas if he didn't prove his strength.

Stupid of course, half Smoker's crew would flat mutiny these days if something happened to the unassuming mop-boy. Still, some insecurities could only be fought with time and experience. He'd learned that from a certain fire-brand the hard way.

“Find us a safe place to anchor and ready a life-boat to go ashore.”

“What about the townsfolk?” Tashigi asked, indicating the small fleet of fishing vessels waiting just off the coast.

“Depending on what we find, we'll help set up temporary housing, or take them aboard and set off for the next island on the log pose. For now they can wait.” He growled.

“I'm going with you.” No Name's voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Too dangerous. Teach was reported in the area he might still be there...”

“I'm. Going. Sir.”

Smoker looked, and sure enough while the words were barely loud enough to be heard, the gunmetal eyes trained on the island were hard as Seastone. And as easy for him to fight.

“Fine. It's your head after all.”


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July 2017

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